16 February 2011

Inoculation of Humility

A milestone ... Or finding those Pansies.

My first debilitating cold since moving to the blessed Holy Eretz Yisrael. 

This is an inoculation of humility. Nothing more humbling than having a fat head, drippy nose, weak muscles, fever and no energy! Day one fighting.

Sniffle, sneeze, and a turn over to face the porch. New scenery, new ideas. Have to buy a flower box for the windowsill, some yellow Pansies with their sunny faces and deep purple hues. Little droplets of nourishment are hanging from everything. It must have rained overnite. Heavy heavy eyelids, time to nap. Blessed sleep. I'm waiting to awake fresh with vigor.

It was that @€%#<{* worker at my neighborhood markolet! Rubbing her nose, sniffling, and then touching each of my foods to ring them up! No, there was only one checkout. Day two flat, lost the fight.

I don't take OTC meds. They mess with your cognitive skills, if you have any. Time for some more of my home remedies. Oregano and oregano oil are good for infection. Start with probiotics in the am on an empty stomach, one twice daily, two when sick. Take oregano caps every 5 hours. Also, elderberry syrup is good for the feverishness, add to this one sizzllie aspirin with "C", lots of soup and tea, and then grab the tissues and wait it out. All you can do is treat the symptoms. Time heals all ....

Confined to being in a horizontal state of mind, covered from toes to head, it does leave one time to think. 

Oh, a myriad of things. Like which bookcase to buy, for the long wall or the shorter wall by the window? Where to find European love seats? Buy antique? But maybe bedbugs are buried within the wood? They are a major epidemic like disgruntled muslim neighbors. Whether to hang up pictures. If I make holes in the walls to decorate, I can hear my husband now, "Don't damage someone else's property." But bare walls!? 

The sun is pushing it's way thru the clouds sending me thoughts of spring, blossoming almond trees, and a faint splash of summer.

Who !Ah..choo! wants to think about politics. That seems like all anyone cares about here in the  Middle East. My husband eats the news in-between his am and pm learning schedule. I guess it gives him a bit of that excitement men need a daily dose of.

Day three and I can't focus on anything, fever, headache, turn left, turn right, ... Oh, just get me through this, dear Hashem! My poor husband has to fend for himself. He comes in now and then to see if I'm still there.

When you have the flu you don't care who is doing what to whom. Just get through this ... Can't take this fever another day.

Day four. Wow, I can feel again. My head is not pounding. And I can walk around a bit. I think I'm over the worse part. But still weak. Now don't overdo it, I hear a voice caution me. Ok, just let me make a fresh pot of soup. Day four and as we proceed into each hour I can feel a resurgence of familiarity ... my interest in the world around me. Where is my iPad? Day four brings the next and final stage of illness. It attacks me quickly ... The coughing stage.

(Intermission ... a coughing fit takes over)

That's actually a good sign, the road to beautiful recovery. Hashem created the immune system and various response systems to fight off invading germs, by the "T" cells. Then to put your body into recovery mode, and the cough is supposed to clear the lungs, of course a little syrup or honey helps in this area.

Anyway, there are two flower shops nearby. I"YH i'll go soon as I have the energy and get those Pansies. 

Oh, yes, and keep that lesson of humility in focus.

08 February 2011

. . . The Last Dance

Its the last dance
and as we gather
once more to enhance
our linguistic endeavor
we are reminded that
all to soon
it will be over

Thank you Tovah for persevering with your struggling students. For not giving up on us, for continuing to challenge us and criticize us in your inimitable fashion.
Even when we felt disheartened, you spoke to us through your journalistic idealism, and created the spark in our souls again, to try once more to capture our readers' minds and hearts.
You moved us to listen to the music of our souls, and express what lay hidden within. We hopefully will continue to dance to the music of creativity, even beyond your leading us, in this . . . last dance.